


an elegant gesture, a furtive glance

by spndrea



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Smut, and i love them too much, and they stop hating each other after like one second, cause i can't write taekai hating each other, only at the end, they love each other too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 20:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15915585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spndrea/pseuds/spndrea
Summary: Watching Taemin dance always brought a bitter taste to his mouth, the fluid movements, the control he seemed to have over every last fiber of his body, the deep, heady stare he held with himself in the mirror making Jongin want to punch the glass or Taemin himself.





	an elegant gesture, a furtive glance

Jongin liked to claim that he didn’t truly hate a lot of things.

He may dislike the most trivial things that everyone came to read about in those cheap teen-magazines; getting up early, the cashier always ringing up the next customer before he was done putting his change away, his roommate Sehun always seeming to occupy the shower _just_ as he was about to step in, or his brain flashing back to the time he’d tripped on his way up the stairs on the first day of college.

 _Dislike_ wasn’t a strong word, not sending a fiery burn to his chest whenever expressing himself feeling that way. Not like _hate_ did, or _loathe_.

Not like all the times he’s made abundantly clear how much he _wholly and truly hated Lee Taemin._

 _Lee Taemin,_ barely a year older than him, dance major just like Jongin, and also the absolute worst thing to ever walk into Jongin’s life.

Lee Taemin, who made Jongin’s resentment toward him seemingly grow after each day of seeing him - which was five times a week, for _at least_ four hours.

Lee fucking Taemin, with his faux-bleached hair and physique only attributed through years upon years of dancing, all lean muscle and slim limbs, with his full lips constantly forming jabbing words directed at Jongin to make his eyes twitch and his mouth turn into a sneer ever since they’d both walked into the practice room for the first time nearly one year ago.

 _Hate_ was, in every sense and meaning, a strong word, but Jongin thought it couldn’t even _begin_ to express the amount of resentment he held against Lee Taemin.

 

 

 

Watching Taemin dance always brought a bitter taste to his mouth, the fluid movements, the control he seemed to have over every last fiber of his body, the deep, heady stare he held with himself in the mirror making Jongin want to punch the glass or Taemin himself.

They were performing their self-choreographed dances in front of the class, and Jongin wanted to scream at how _simple_ Taemin made his routine seem, how his hair seemed to not have a single strand out of place and his shirt didn’t slip out of where it was tugged into his black sweatpants even _once_ during the passion-filled and energetic routine he was showing off _._

Jongin let his eyes dart around, catching every student with an almost entranced look on their faces, as if Taemin’s fluid movement of his hips and the way his torso rolled independently from every other part of his body were the most hypnotizing things they had ever experienced. Jongin scoffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he directed his gaze back forward.

The music faded gradually until the only sound in the auditorium were the barely audible sounds of Taemin’s sped-up breathing, and everyone clapped. Jongin brought his hands together twice, his eyes rolling back in an, admittedly, pretty passive-aggressive manner.

Taemin walked off the stage, hand running through his hair as he went by Jongin, bumping against his shoulder in complete consciousness before muttering, “try not tripping again this time.”

“Fuck you,” Jongin snapped, probably a little too loud if the turning of heads towards them was any indication.

“Ah, you wish, Jonginnie,” Taemin smirked, plucking a stray hair back behind his ear. Jongin glared, inhaling sharply.

“Oh my _God,_ can you shut up for, like, _one_ second?”

Taemin just shrugged before drawling, “would you really want me to?”

Jongin was about to respond with a convinced _Yes!,_ had it not been for their trainer calling him up the stage to perform his solo, so he simply shook his head and turned on his heels, getting on stage and lowering himself to the floor.

He raised his head when he heard the music start to pulsate through the spacious room, unwillingly catching Taemin’s gaze that had turned into a bored expression, though his eyes seemed to still study every one of Jongin’s moves as if storing them somewhere in the back of his mind. Jongin tried not to roll his eyes, not daring to break the persona he had taken on as he heard the bass of the music drop lower with his cue to start lifting his back off the floor in a high arch, only letting his shoulders touch the clean ground of the stage.

Taemin’s bored expression slowly transformed into a god-awful smirk when their gazes locked, and Jongin pushed himself to his feet with the intensity of the burning feeling inside his chest.

 

 

 

“Can you fucking believe this? I fucking hate him, I hate him so much,” Jongin seethed as soon as he entered his apartment and spotted Sehun sitting on the couch with Chanyeol and Baekhyun, watching a rerun of some cheap drama while shoving popcorn into their mouths.

“I’m gonna kill him one of these days,” he carried on, dropping his bag on the floor and stomping into the kitchen to down a glass of water.

"Taemin again?" He heard Baekhyun call from the living room and Sehun mumbles a, " _who else,”_ under his breath.

“What’d he do _this_ time?” Chanyeol asked, pulling his feet off the coffee table when Jongin shoved at them and let himself plop down on the floor.

“He’s just so-- so fucking _infuriating._ I can’t deal with him and his disgusting pride and his disgusting cocky expression _all the damn time,_ ” Jongin said, a hand coming up to snatch some of the popcorn lying in Baekhyun’s lap.

“Man,” Sehun starts, grabbing the remote to switch through the channels, “how long has this been going on between you two?”

Jongin laughed humorlessly. “Ever since we both got the highest points on our choreographies the very first day of practice and he came onto me and just fucking said something along the lines of _I’m better than you and I’m gonna work extra hard to get higher points than you next time._ ”

“I doubt he worded it like _that,_ ” Baekhyun cut in, slapping Sehun’s shoulder as he skipped over a rerun of _Dancing with the Stars._

“His intentions were clear!” Jongin defended, and Chanyeol just hummed sarcastically before saying, “Doesn’t your constant bickering kind of affect the whole team mentality dancers are supposed to have? Like, _I got your back when I have to lift you up above my head,_ you know?”

Jongin knew. “Which is why I don’t pair up with him, and also never will. We never do routines as a group, anyway, only ever get teamed up as a duo, maybe, so I have nothing to worry about,” he said, stretching his legs in front of him, “I still hope he drops out of college or something. I’m sick of seeing his face every day.”

Baekhyun laughed, slightly shoving at his back with his foot. “Sure you are,” he mumbled. Chanyeol snorted, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m not even going to ask what you mean,” Jongin said, moving to get up, “I’m gonna shower. Order some take-out, please, I’m starving.”

 

 

 

Right now, Jongin thinks he also really hates morning classes, especially when they made him run across campus because his phone battery was _horrible_ and had decided to die overnight _,_ leaving him with only two minutes until practice started.

Jongin was never late, and he hoped his teacher would excuse it happening just once, because by the time Jongin had entered the building and took the stairs two at a time, he was already nearly five minutes behind their schedule.

He barged through the already-closed doors into the big practice room, everyone already hunched over in pairs and making small movements with their bodies, seemingly marking different choreographies in halfhearted manners. Jongin leaned against the wall, chest heaving and breaths coming out in pants.

“Jongin! Glad you decided to join us today,” his teacher called from where she was sorting some papers on the desk in the corner.

Jongin heard the door fall shut behind him, and he didn’t even need to look to know who it was. The lack of teasing he’d received upon stumbling into the room was enough of an answer.

“And Taemin! I hope you slept well, boys,” their teacher walked over to them, Jongin doing everything to resist the urge to look behind him, knowing Taemin was right there. “Any reason for not keeping up with your schedule?”

Jongin cleared his throat, still struggling to catch his breath, and blurted out, “My alarm died,” as an explanation, head turning back when he heard Taemin say the same thing.

Their teacher huffed a sigh, exasperated expression clear on her face. “Well,” she started, walking back to retrieve some papers before turning around again, “since you two synchronize _so well_ already by being late, and are also the last two not paired up, you’re gonna work together on the final project.”

Jongin thinks he’s hearing wrong. “Uh, what?” He voiced, Taemin’s choked off sound making his thoughts clear from where he was now taking a step forward to stand next to Jongin.

“You two,” their teacher gestured between them, “are going to choreograph a duo-routine together. It is to be performed during finals-week and will count 50% of your grade.”

Jongin thinks he’s going to pass out.

Taemin speaks up next to him. “Is there any chance someone could switch partners? If you haven’t noticed, Jongin and I don’t really work well together.” And, well, at least they can agree on _something,_ Jongin supposes _._

However, their teacher just shakes her head. “You should’ve thought about that before being late. Everyone’s already working on their piece, don’t get too far behind.” With that, she dismisses them, strutting back to her desk to shuffle through her files some more.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Taemin scoffs before walking away, leaning against the wall on the opposite end of the room where no other students were practicing. Jongin watched Taemin look at him with an expectant expression, motioning with his hand for Jongin to follow him, eyes rolling back in annoyance.

Jongin did reluctantly, walking over to where Taemin was already standing and reading through the papers their teacher had handed over to him before, frown prominent on his face. Jongin waited until he looked back up, leaning his head back against the wall. “We’re supposed to do something that shows emotion, doesn’t matter what style. Set points are the same as always,” Taemin said absentmindedly, seemingly directing all his focus on fiddling with the rings on his right hand, as if giving Jongin an extensive explanation was as important as stepping on an ant.

Jongin mumbled a, _“Great,”_ under his breath, receiving a side-eyed glare from Taemin. “Look,” he started, voice strung tight, “except if you plan on failing a performance _worth 50% of our final grade,_ I suggest you cooperate.”

Jongin looked at him incredulously. “ _I_ should cooperate? You’re the one who won’t stop fucking with me every goddamn day- “

“God, shut _up,_ let’s just get through this. I don’t wanna spend time with you either, don’t worry.”

Jongin heaved a breath. “Emotions,” he said finally, “what kinda emotions?”

Taemin shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. Whatever, I guess. Love, Hate, Trust. Our choice. I thought about something more sensual, passionate. Not love, though, I don’t even wanna think about how many in here have chosen _Love._ ”

Jongin nodded, eyes darting around. “I can do sensual and passionate. So, what’re we going for? Hate?”

Taemin hummed. “I don’t like that word. It’s too one-sided, there’s nothing to it except for the incredible dislike toward something you can’t understand or explain.”

Jongin blinked a couple of times, gaze flicking back to Taemin, catching the way his throat elongated when he pushed his head further against the wall, the way his chest moved rhythmically with his breaths, the way his eyes suddenly met Jongin’s with an expectant glint.

“How about Desire? We don’t have to specify what kind of Desire we’re talking about. Could be Hate, Love, whatever. We can feel Desire for everything.” Jongin scratches the side of his neck, holding Taemin’s gaze.

Taemin seems to contemplate the idea, forehead creasing up in thought before nodding. “Alright,” he said, “I guess we can work with that. Let’s just go for a slow but intense song, something with a deep rhythm that you have to _feel_ to be able to get the dance, something that pulls you in.”

Taemin’s voice sounded as if he was already planning parts of the choreography in his head, fingers twitching at his sides and eyes flicking back and forth.

And Jongin hated to admit it, but Taemin’s mind was kind of awestriking when it came to dancing. He’d make a good partner if he weren’t so awfully unbearable.

 

“Let’s meet in the upstairs practice room from now on,” Taemin stated when Jongin was packing his bag to leave, “Number sixteen. No one’s ever there.”

Jongin nodded, picking up his bag. He was nearly out of the door when he heard Taemin call, “make sure you’re not late, this time!”

Jongin grabbed the strap of his bag a bit tighter, deciding that it was going to be a _long_ three months.

 

 

 

They managed to choose a song surprisingly fast, mostly because of Jongin’s reluctance to admit that it really wasn’t what he excelled at. It was something slow yet intense, the bass making Jongin’s head swim and the rhythm of the deep beat coursing through his chest. Jongin had never danced to a song like that. He’s trained in ballet and jazz, for fuck’s sake, not in sensuality and seduction and free movement.

The one thing always taught to him in his past dance classes, from the first day he’d entered a ballet practice at six years of age, was sharp moves, clean technique, control over every last muscle in his body. And as much as he appreciated what ballet and jazz had contributed to his dancing skills, it was undeniable that it was holding him back right now.

Because Taemin’s dancing was everything Jongin’s wasn’t; smooth where Jongin’s was sharp, free where Jongin’s was controlled, diverse where Jongin’s was routine, and it had never felt more like they were the worst pairing to ever be forced to work together.

They were working on putting together the choreography, the song playing on loop in the background the whole time, and Jongin could feel himself growing more and more aggravated.

“No,” Taemin said for probably the fifteenth time since Jongin had entered the practice room, “that doesn’t go with the music.”

Jongin ran his hand through his sweaty hair, repressing the groan building in his throat. “It does, though.”

“No,” _sixteenth_ , “your moves are too fast, it’s a slow song, make them fucking slow.”

“That’s not how this works, _Taemin_ ,” Jongin said, voice tight and teeth clenched.

“Oh, and how _does_ it work? ‘Cause, sorry to break it to you, but hasty moves _don’t go with the fucking music,_ Jongin.” Taemin was standing closer now, only an arm’s length of space left between them, and Jongin thinks he’s about to punch him in the face.

“It works with you working _with_ me and not bossing me around while making decisions by yourself as if it weren’t _both_ our grades affected by this bullshit.” Jongin’s voice was bordering on too-loud now, unconsciously taking a step forward to crowd into Taemin’s space.

“Show me a good idea,” Taemin breathed into the small space between them, moving further toward Jongin, “then maybe I’ll work with it.”

Taemin’s face was devoid of any signs of anger now, neutral in every way possible, eyes blinking lazily and mouth curled up in a lazy smile, and Jongin had to ball his fists at his sides, letting his fingernails dig harshly into his palms.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to not give into Taemin’s teasing, and turned around to grab his water bottle from where it was placed on a table in the corner.

“If you want good ideas,” Jongin said, voice clearer after downing half of his bottle, “then pay attention.”

“Wouldn’t want to miss a second,” Taemin taunted, smirk firmly plastered on his face, and Jongin did his best to ignore the fiery burn Taemin’s voice left within him.

 

 

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jongin seethed the moment he entered his apartment, dropping his bag and kicking his shoes into the corner.

“What’d he say?” He heard Sehun ask from the living room, the area filled with the soundtrack of some game he was playing.

“ _Jongin, your ideas are trash! Jongin, follow everything I do! Jongin, change your whole style of dance for this dumb fucking choreo!_ I’m sick of this, I literally nearly hit him square in the face today!”

Sehun pressed pause on the game once Jongin came to sit next to him, lifting his feet to rest on the table in front of him.

“Maybe you should’ve. I heard physical fights are great to relieve tension between two people,” Sehun said, voice joking.

Jongin snorted. “Yeah, right, and risk failing because I couldn’t control my temper.”

Jongin’s head turned when he heard the door open again, looking at Sehun questioningly. “Baekhyun needs some entertainment. Chanyeol’s busy with music production stuff,” he explained, Jongin nodding his head understandingly.

“So,” Baekhyun’s voice came through as he jumped onto the couch, taking the controller away from Sehun and unpausing the game, “how’s working with Taemin, Jongin?”

Jongin just groaned and threw his head back. “I’ve never been more frustrated in my _life._ ”

Baekhyun side-eyed him. “Sexually?”

Jongin’s head whipped forward, staring at Baekhyun’s grinning expression as he heard Sehun choke on a laugh next to him. “What the fuck? Why would I be?”

“I’m just saying,” Baekhyun said defensively, “if I had to dance next to someone looking like _Taemin,_ I’d be pretty frustrated, too. I mean, I only ever see him walk across campus, but _damn_ those are legs. And lips, too, how haven’t you- “

“Oh my _God,_ shut up!” Jongin wheezed in a breathless voice while Sehun was shaking with barely-contained laughter. “The only thing I’m frustrated about is the fact that I can’t punch him in the throat!”

Baekhyun looked over at him, eyes glinting mischievously. “Punch him in the lips, then. With, y’know, _your_ lips.”

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Jongin asked, voice increasing in volume and cheeks heating up.

“Come on, Jongin, as much as you might hate him, you can’t deny that Taemin’s hot as fuck. I’d even say hotter than you, but you’re sitting next to me and I wanna stay alive, so I won’t.”

Jongin crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying not to think about the way Taemin’s full lips curved up after jabbing some teasing remark at Jongin or the way his hips moved almost alluringly at the very beginning of their choreography.

 

 

 

The foundations of the routine were finished earlier than Jongin expected.

They both knew the moves, both knew when their cues were, after barely two weeks, and yet Jongin knew that they had only finished the easiest part.

Because next came putting everything together, making it one, fitting it to the theme _Desire,_ and Jongin _dreaded_ it.

 _Desire_ meant more than either of them probably wanted it to. It went without saying that, to the music they chose, they were going down the darker road of desire, the one that left you breathless and wanting more, and Jongin wasn’t sure how to make that work with Taemin.

Because he really didn’t know how to make a dance scream _Desire_ without touching, without intimacy being shared between him and Taemin. It made Jongin think back to Baekhyun’s words a few days ago as he was walking up the stairs to the practice room.

“Took you long enough,” he heard Taemin say as he opened the door and walked into the room, the former already standing with his legs straight and his fingertips touching the floor. _Damn those are legs._

He wanted to kill Baekhyun.

“I’m just on time, not my fault you’re always too early,” Jongin muttered back, exchanging his street shoes for some old sneakers.

Taemin huffed out a laugh and righted himself up, arching his back to compensate for the stretch the hunched over position had left him with, and Jongin _didn’t_ stare when he finally straightened his body and let a sigh escape his lips. _Fuck you, Baekhyun._

“I’ve been thinking,” Jongin interrupted his thoughts, catching Taemin’s attention.

“That’s new,” he said, grinning.

Jongin couldn’t help the snort leaving his mouth. “Fuck off. Anyway, we’ve got the main moves for the routine, but it kinda doesn’t fit our theme yet.”

Taemin pulled his eyebrows together in confusion, and Jongin continued as he walked toward where Taemin was leaning against the wall. “Well, our concept is desire. We can’t, like, dance ten feet away from each other if we wanna exude _desire._ ”

Taemin nodded slightly, humming. “Obviously. Touching’s not a problem for me. I figured we were gonna do something… _closer._ ”

Jongin then grabbed his phone and started the song, the deep bass resonating from the speakers and filling the quiet space. Taemin pushed off the wall and walked to the middle of the room, facing the mirror and locking his gaze with Jongin’s through the reflection.

“Stand behind me,” Taemin spoke up, and Jongin barely resisted rolling his eyes at the demanding tone in his voice. He left a good amount of space between his chest and Taemin’s back, and he could see Taemin let out an annoyed sigh through the mirror, his chest rising and falling with the action before he took two steps backward. It made their clothes catch on each other with every breath Jongin took, and if he were to lean the slightest bit forward, his chest would be snug against Taemin’s back. Jongin held his breath.

Taemin spoke as nonchalantly as ever, smug gaze still on Jongin’s reflection. “Don’t be so awkward, do what you think goes with the music. Show me your _good ideas._ ”

Jongin pulled air into his lungs, releasing it and stepping forward, their bodies touching. He really wanted to see the constant teasing grin gracing Taemin’s lips vanish, so if he wanted _good ideas,_ Jongin was gonna give them to him.

He waited for the song to restart before laying his right hand down on Taemin's shoulder and letting the other grab his waist, trying to picture what move would complement the smooth rhythm taking over his body.

He slowly slid the hand resting on Taemin’s shoulder down his arm, Taemin’s gaze averting from Jongin’s to follow the movement, body leaning back into his chest. Jongin watched their movements in the mirror, letting his body work for him, only listening to the beat of the music reverberating in his ears and flowing into new positions, his fingers lacing with Taemin’s and bringing their hands up to the side before drifting back over the smooth skin of Taemin’s arm until he could let it run down his chest, palm gliding over the soft material of Taemin’s shirt.

“We could,” Jongin started, voice too raspy to be normal, “start off like this, then go apart again. But never too long, ‘cause the desire to be near the other is too big.” He tried to keep his voice from wavering, to speak as if he were reciting a book. The proximity between him and Taemin didn’t help, leaving Jongin uncomfortable while also not really wanting to move his hand from where it was still holding Taemin’s waist.

His head snapped up to catch Taemin’s gaze back on him when he spoke up. “Sounds good. Just gotta make it smooth,” he turned around to face Jongin directly now, fingers circling around Jongin’s wrist of the hand still laying on Taemin’s chest, “and make your touches more _natural._ You have to stop thinking about every move. Just- “

Jongin tensed slightly when he felt Taemin direct his hand to the side of his neck, fingers still holding onto the wrist, grip on it intensifying. “Just listen to the music. Don’t let your mind move your body. Just _feel._ ”

And Taemin made it sound so easy, voice sounding like it would when telling someone how to multiply one and one together, like Jongin was some student he has to teach. It made his chest burn and his head hurt, but he didn’t move his hands away from Taemin’s waist and neck.

“Show me, then,” he said, voice quiet, and he didn’t really know he had said anything until Taemin’s expression turned back into the teasing glint.

The music was still playing, starting over for yet another time, and Taemin started moving to their choreography. Jongin needed a moment to catch up before he stumbled into the rehearsed steps, hesitantly moving _with_ Taemin, rather than with himself.

The routine required more space than they had at the moment, with Jongin’s hand on Taemin’s neck and their feet nearly bumping together whenever they moved, so it didn’t take long until Taemin turned his back toward Jongin again.

Jongin’s body moved along to the music almost unconsciously, absentmindedly, his focus seemingly only directed at the feeling the strumming music left him with, his body tingling and his mind blank.

He didn’t notice Taemin moving back closer to him - still within the rhythm, still following their routine – until his back was against Jongin’s chest yet again, Jongin feeling the fast-paced breathing of both of them. When Taemin took his hands and guided them in the same way Jongin had done by himself before, he couldn’t help but trace each and every move with his eyes through the mirror’s reflection.

Taemin’s hand made Jongin’s glide up his own body until it rested on the side of Taemin’s face, and Jongin applied the slightest amount of pressure to make Taemin’s head turn up and to the side to meet Jongin’s gaze already focused on him. The move brought their faces together closer, _so much closer,_ and Jongin could feel every pant escaping Taemin’s lips.

The song was coming to an end, Jongin picked up, the rhythm slowing and deepening more and more and the choreography they were still following getting even more sensual, now. He felt Taemin’s hand covering his slide to the back of his neck before he turned around, facing Jongin again and making both of their last movements somehow still flow evenly and freely despite their close proximity.

With the music fading out, Taemin’s eyes locked onto his and their faces came closer to each other in a synchronization Jongin would usually be worried about. Their foreheads touched, resting against each other as they waited for the last bits of noise coming from the speakers to die out. Jongin was positive he was breathing in the air Taemin breathed out, Taemin inhaling what Jongin was exhaling, and the thought sent another burn through his body. Though it seemed warmer, this time, less burning.

It was Jongin who pulled away, putting more distance between them with a step backward and a cough muffled through his hand. He watched Taemin's hand wipe away the sweat beading on his forehead, chest lowering and rising at a fast pace.

“Showed you?” He heard Taemin ask through his heavy breathing, voice raspy, and Jongin knew it was a rhetorical question. The smirk tugging at Taemin’s lips and the low glint in his eyes told Jongin he knew exactly how utterly consumed Jongin was by him. He didn’t answer.

“I think we got the foundation down, right? Only gotta make sure we don’t just freestyle the whole touching,” he said instead, forcing his expression to stay neutral as he looked at Taemin.

“But Jongin,” Taemin started, taking a small step to decrease the distance between them again, “what’s so bad about freestyle? You were dancing so well without thinking about it.” He circled his fingers around Jongin’s wrist again, and Jongin didn’t know what to do when Taemin was _so close_ without having the excuse of following a choreography.

“So I’m not dancing well otherwise?” He finally said, voice indignant and bordering on breathy.

Taemin huffed a laugh. “I didn’t say that. You know you’re a great dancer, I don’t have to tell you that.” Taemin slid his hand away from Jongin’s wrist and up his clammy arm, leaving Jongin irritated at the goosebumps appearing in its wake. “But you don’t know how great of a dancer you are when you let yourself _go._ ” Taemin’s nails dug into his biceps. Jongin’s breath caught in his throat.

Jongin took a deep breath, holding it in hopes of grounding himself. “I can’t change the way I dance, sorry to disappoint,” he eventually said, voice growing more stable.

Taemin’s eyebrows raised and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I’d never ask you to _change,_ that’d be bullshit,” he said, and Jongin was about to retaliate that, _yes, you just said that,_ but Taemin beat him to it. “I’m only telling you that you’re holding back right now. You don’t do that whenever you’re alone on stage.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jongin responded, because he really didn’t. Although maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, he did.

Taemin rolled his eyes and let his hand drop to his side again. Jongin tried not to feel the coldness suddenly taking over the patch of skin Taemin was holding before. “Oh, come on, whenever you dance it’s like you become a different person. I don’t know if you dance for yourself or for the people watching - probably both - but I know that just now has been the first time that you danced with me like you usually do. If it only takes me guiding your hand over my body to achieve that, just say so.”

Jongin was surprised to find a painfully neutral expression on Taemin’s face. He could’ve just as well rubbed it into Jongin’s face that he got Jongin to let go of his clouding thoughts. “I’m just not used to dancing like _this,_ ” he sighed, gesturing at Taemin, “like _you._ Ballet didn’t really teach me much about _letting the music guide me._ Music was kinda just background noise. Every move came from my mind, still does, even if it’s not too intense anymore. But I guess you managed to distract me enough to make me forget about that.”

Jongin didn’t really think about how _that_ sounded, not until Taemin’s blessedly-blank expression turned back into being teasing. “I _distract you,_ huh?" He simpered, and Jongin shoved at his chest to make him stumble backward with a laugh.

“Shut _up,_ you know what I meant.” Jongin didn’t even know himself what he meant.

Taemin shook his head, smirk having turned into a light smile, and Jongin had to avert his gaze and turn around to grab his water bottle from the ground. He looked back at Taemin just to see him wipe the sweat on his forehead with his shirt, exposing his abdomen and slim waist. Jongin felt like downing the whole bottle.

 

 

 

Working at the coffee shop next to his apartment wouldn’t be so awful if the smell of coffee didn’t make him feel absolutely nauseous and ready to throw up at the end of the day, Jongin thinks as he’s grinding some coffee beans next to Chanyeol.

They’ve decided to take up the closing shifts three times a week at pretty much the beginning of college, not wanting to drown in debt while still having to pay rent, and it was _okay,_ Jongin guesses. They spend half their time behind the counter either throwing straws at each other or on their phones trying to find the best dog pictures to show to one another, so Jongin thinks it could be worse.

There wasn’t too much going on in the shop most of the time, not many people being interested in getting coffee from four in the afternoon to ten in the evening, only the occasional college students asking for a triple-shot espresso before flopping down in the corner to type away on their laptop.

“Shit!” He heard Chanyeol yell from where he was standing with his elbows propped on the counter suddenly, phone in his hands and staring at it with wide eyes.

Jongin made a questioning noise, looking over at Chanyeol with a frown. The latter just sighed before putting his phone down harsh enough to make Jongin wince. “I forgot about my paper. It’s due tomorrow and I have, like, a hundred words from five-thousand. Fuck, I’m _so fucked,_ I’m gonna drop out, Jongin.”

Jongin went over and patted Chanyeol on the back sympathetically. “Only you could forget about a paper the day before it’s due,” he said, and Chanyeol whined pitifully. “Go work on it now if you want, there’s nothing going on right now, anyway.”

Chanyeol perked up a bit. “You sure you don’t mind?”

Jongin nodded, playfully shoving Chanyeol toward the backroom. “Get your laptop and work on that paper. I’m not letting you drop out yet.”

“ _Yet_?” Chanyeol asked as he was fumbling around with his bag before pulling his laptop out and walking around the counter to sit down by the table nearest to Jongin.

His laugh was cut off by the bell above the door ringing, announcing someone arriving at the shop. Jongin made his way back to the cash register, ready to take the order of whoever just walked in.

His eyes widened slightly when he saw Taemin stride up to the counter.

“Oh, hey,” Taemin said, voice clear in the silent setting and lips curled up in an easy smile, “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“I’m not here a lot. I take the closing shifts Monday to Wednesday with Chanyeol,” he gestured to where his friend was seated, already immersed in his computer screen, “He has a paper due tomorrow, so I’m on my own for now.”

Taemin nodded before averting his eyes, scanning the list of drinks they sold. “Do you have tea or something? I’m not really a coffee guy,” he asked eventually, looking back at Jongin.

He had to laugh a bit, because- “You come to a coffee shop but _don’t_ like coffee? But yeah, we have some iced teas. It’s what I usually get when I’m on break, I hate coffee.”

“ _You work at a coffee shop but don’t like coffee?_ ” Taemin teased in a bad reenactment of Jongin’s voice. “But yeah, I’ll take whatever you drink, then,” he continued, taking a straw from the holder sitting on the counter.

Jongin nodded, tapping around on the cash register before reading off what Taemin needed to pay, taking the money from the other’s hand and trying not to jerk when their fingers brushed.

Jongin made quick work on preparing the iced tea, knowing the procedure by heart from how often he’d made it for himself, swiftly setting the cup down for Taemin to take. “There you go. See you tomorrow, I guess?” Jongin said, watching Taemin push the straw into the drink.

"Ah, about that," Taemin started, looking back up at Jongin, "I have to help my roommate with some project he's doing, so let's meet up a little later? I'll be there at nine if that's okay."

Jongin nodded. “Yeah, sure. Nine’s good.”

Taemin smiled again before lifting his hand in a small wave, turning around to walk out of the shop again.

He jumped slightly upon hearing Chanyeol speak up. “I thought you hated him?”

“I do,” Jongin said immediately. It sounded wrong even to his own ears.

Chanyeol turned around in his chair, facing Jongin with raised eyebrows. “Oh _really._ Smiling at each other like fifth graders and talking about your job while laughing together doesn’t really seem like something I’d do with someone I hate.”

Jongin groaned, leaning onto the counter. “He’s not _that_ bad, I guess? He teases me and is too smug and bossy whenever we practice, but not in an incredibly awful way? I don’t make any sense, do I?”

Chanyeol scratched the back of his head, humming slightly. “Nah, I think I get it. I feel like you have more in common than you think. Why’d you even have such a problem with him in the first place?”

Jongin’s surprised to find he has no real answer to that. “I don’t know, he was just so _good_ at everything and we both had the highest scores and he was just _always_ teasing and fucking with me. He’s infuriating but now I feel like Baekhyun’s words are getting to me way too much.”

Chanyeol’s forehead creased up in confusion momentarily before his eyes widened. “What, the stuff with the sexual frustration? He joked about it once, and, like, I’d get it. Honestly, man, have you _seen_ Taemin? That’s- “

“Not helping, Chanyeol,” Jongin exclaimed, voice louder now. “I don’t fucking know. The concept we’re going for in our dance is desire, so we gotta be, y’know, showing desire, which means proximity and touching, and being so close is doing all kinds of things to my head.”

“Oh my God,” Chanyeol said, voice incredulous, “did you get _hard_ while dancing with Taemin?”

Jongin felt his cheeks burn and his jaw drop before he stuttered out, “What the fuck, I didn’t get fucking hard, why would you even- “ Jongin cut himself off with a huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest as Chanyeol laughed, clapping his hands together.

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol wheezed, trying to calm down. Once he did, he righted himself back up and looked back at Jongin. “So, what, you’re attracted to him? Is that a _Crush_ I sense?”

Jongin groaned again. “I should’ve never talked with you about this. And, no, it’s not a goddamn Crush, who even says that after they’re out of high school?”

“But you do admit you’re attracted to him?” Chanyeol asked, voice sounding as if he’s having a field day right now.

Jongin was about to deny it and shoot Chanyeol down, but remembering the feeling of Taemin’s hands guiding Jongin’s over his chest and their faces so close that they were sharing the air pooling in the space between them made his hands sweaty and his face feel too hot, the warmth in his chest no longer burning rather than making him want to smile.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Chanyeol’s loud voice resonating through the shop. “I knew it!”

“You said it yourself!” Jongin defended, voice bordering on whining. “And so did Baek, don’t make me seem like some thirsty freak.”

“Yeah, but we don’t _know_ him. It’s all just an _observation_ on our part. You, on the other hand, - “ The sound of the bell cut Chanyeol off, and Jongin has never been more thankful for a customer entering the shop five minutes before closing time.

He willed his thoughts to shut up when he had to ask the guy ordering to repeat himself, desperately trying not to think about how practice the next day was going to be absolute hell with Chanyeol’s voice now adding to Baekhyun’s in his head.

 

 

 

“Took you long enough,” Jongin said as he saw Taemin open the door to the practice room, letting it fall shut behind him and going to put down his bag in the corner.

Taemin laughed, because- “That’s usually my line. And, yeah, my friend had some mental breakdown in the middle of working on his project,” he said, changing into more comfortable shoes to dance in. “I think he was, like, a minute away from e-mailing his teacher to tell him he was gonna drop out.”

Jongin laughed a little breathlessly, the story awfully reminding him of Chanyeol’s crisis from the day before. “Guess you talked him out of it?” Jongin asked, lifting himself off the ground and starting to stretch his arms. “What does he study?”

Taemin took off his jacket, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. "Vocal Performance. He has to write a song and give it some kind of topic? He had a total writer's block, couldn't get any words on the page."

Jongin chuckled again, stripping off his own jacket before recalling something. “Vocal Performance, you said? My friend majors in that, too. He procrastinates like crazy, though. Always hangs around at my place to play with my roommate’s PlayStation.”

Taemin shook his head playfully, laugh escaping his smiling lips. “Kibum – my friend – isn’t like that. Most of the time, at least. He really dreaded this project, though, so I guess he didn’t start as early as he should’ve.”

“Ah, I think Baekhyun mentioned him once? Well, he just said something about a _Kibum_ being _so pretty._ Chanyeol didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day, I think,” Jongin laughed, the memory of Sehun and him trying to reassure Chanyeol that _no, Baek isn’t cheating on you_ still clear in his mind.

He heard Taemin’s lighthearted laugh tune in, Jongin’s gaze flicking over to see him with his head slightly thrown back and his phone in his hand. “He probably was talking about Kibum, he’s often described as pretty by anyone, really. Not really my type, though.”

Jongin’s eyes widened momentarily at that before Taemin caught his gaze, cheeky grin set in place. “Let’s get started, shall we? It’s already too late, anyway,” he announced, walking over to the speakers and connecting his phone with them as Jongin made his way over to the middle of the room to face the mirror.

Music began to fill the room, the familiar beat making Jongin’s muscles want to move out of habit. “So,” he said instead when he saw Taemin halt to a stop right beside him, fidgeting with the hem of his thin shirt, “how should we start? Apart, or- “ _Together._

Taemin looked at him through the mirror, seeming to think for a few moments where the sound of the deep bass was the only thing cutting through the silence. His face lit up just the slightest bit after a while, and Jongin had to fight the fond smile tugging at his lips. “Let’s start close to each other, like we did last time.”

Jongin nodded at the memory, stepping behind Taemin and needing a definitely lesser amount of nerve to decrease the space between their bodies, immediately moving closer to let his chest touch Taemin’s back and his hands rest on Taemin’s waist and shoulder.

Jongin spoke up, trying to distract himself from the warmth Taemin’s body left him with. “How about we do the you-guiding-me thing? And stay like that until the second chorus starts. Then we’ll pull apart until the last few lines? To, y’know, build some- “

“Anticipation,” Taemin finished, voice quiet and gaze still intently locked on Jongin’s through the mirror, shoulder feeling tense under Jongin’s tighter grip. Jongin nodded, feeling stray strands from Taemin’s hair tickling the side of his face, making an involuntary shiver run down his spine.

“Yeah,” Jongin rasped just as the song faded out, signaling them to get into position for when it starts over again, “Anticipation. Tension.”

Their eyes stayed on each other until the silence between the end and replay of the music stretched through the room, Taemin then shaking his head slightly and directing his gaze to the floor to take his starting position. Jongin took a breath and moved his focus from the mirror to the side of Taemin’s face, grip on his body tightening slightly as the first beat of the song sounded from the speakers to urge them to start their choreography.

Jongin was breathing harder than usual as he heard the last beats of the song filter through the room, forehead sweaty and hands clammy where they were holding onto Taemin’s neck and wrist, feeling the fast rhythm of his pulse under his fingers. Their eyes were locked onto each other still with their breaths mingling together, and it somehow felt as if Taemin was closer to him now than he was the previous times they’d rehearsed this.

He caught the movement of Taemin’s tongue swiping over his bottom lip, and Jongin couldn’t fight the urge to follow the movement with his eyes, glancing down for the fraction of a second and taking in the full lips seemingly shining after Taemin wetted them before flicking his gaze back up, seeing Taemin’s dark eyes still intently focused on him.

Jongin dimly noticed the song replaying again, the noise piercing his ears suddenly and making him jerk away the slightest bit, and _why were they so close-_

He cleared his throat, letting his hands leave Taemin’s stature to fall to his sides. “I think,” Jongin started, turning around to grab his bottle, “we’re fine. Just gotta run through it a couple times, but the routine seems steady.”

He took a swig of his water after seeing Taemin give an affirmative nod. “Let’s cut practice short today? It’s nearly ten already anyway,” Taemin then said, and Jongin wondered if the raspy tone his voice had adopted was only because of the harsh breaths leaving his mouth.

They made quick work of cleaning up, not bothering too much since they were going to be back the next day anyway. Jongin threw his towel and shoes haphazardly into his bag and walked toward the door, pushing the handle down only to be met with resistance.

He tried again, wondering if he confused pushing it with pulling, but still- nothing. He jerked the handle back and forth, trying to push the door open, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Uh, Taemin?” He said, voice cautious.

Taemin hummed, still working on stuffing his things in his bag. Jongin sighed, banging his head against the door. “I think the door’s locked.”

He heard the shuffling behind him stop. “What do you mean _it’s locked._ ”

Jongin turned to face him again, saying incredulously, “I mean it’s _locked._ Won’t-open-an-inch _locked,_ Taemin.”

“Move,” Taemin said, getting up and walking over to the door, desperately trying to open the door. “It can’t be locked,” he said, sounding like he didn’t even believe himself while still wiggling the door handle up and down in the futile attempt of pushing the door open.

“Who the fuck would just lock a room?” Taemin asked, hanging his head after finally stopping the abuse on the door handle.

Jongin shrugged, walking around the room to see if there was a key somewhere. “The janitor’s always around here at this time, didn’t know he just locked doors without looking around first, though,” he muttered, voice annoyed.

He heard another jab of the handle before seeing Taemin sit down on the floor, back leaning against the wall. Jongin ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply while sauntering over to Taemin, sliding to the ground next to him. “There’s no key around, either.”

Taemin let his head hit the wall, elongated throat shiny with the beads of sweat still covering it. “I can’t fucking believe we got locked in. This is ridiculous, I’ve stayed here to practice ‘till after _midnight_ already.”

Jongin turned his head to look at Taemin, expression exasperated and brows furrowed in a frown. Jongin heaved another breath, lightly shoving Taemin’s foot next to his. “Won’t help if you get all worked up. Let’s just be thankful that we got a bathroom in here at least,” Jongin said, leaving himself surprised at the consoling tone his voice had taken on.

He watched Taemin rub his hands over his face, clearing it of the bright strands of hair still sticking to the sweaty skin before eyeing Jongin with the same expression as before, though there was a small uplift to the corners of his mouth. “ _At least,_ ” he chuckled, voice light.

Taemin slid his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants, pressing the button to make the screen light up. “It’s half past ten right now, we only gotta find some entertainment for another eight hours, and I only have ten percent left,” he sighed before dropping the device to the floor between them, leaving goosebumps littering Jongin’s skin as their arms brushed against each other.

Jongin laughed quietly. “At least you have your phone here, I left mine at home. Chanyeol’s gonna kill me for ignoring his texts about Baekhyun.”

Taemin laughed, the sound making Jongin’s eyes snap back to lock onto Taemin’s face as his chest felt tighter. “Chanyeol’s the guy from the coffee shop, right?” Jongin nodded, smiling distantly at the memory. “And Baekhyun is, what, his boyfriend?”

“Yeah, an incredible paranoid one at that,” Jongin laughed, “Once I came home to him sitting on my couch, eating my chips and drinking my good wine, because he thought Chanyeol was ignoring him. His phone just died for, like, an _hour_.”

Taemin looked away from Jongin, covering his mouth to stifle his laughs as he tilted his head back. “That’s- That’s actually crazy,” he said, voice faltering with wheezes interrupting him. Jongin laughed, carelessly. “Tell me about it.”

Jongin momentarily realized how _weird_ this was; talking with Taemin, watching him laugh so hard he’d throw his head back and the only sounds escaping his throat would be soft wheezes of air, Jongin himself feeling his mouth curl up in retaliation, eyes squinting with the force of the smile shaping over his lips.

It was weird, seeing Taemin like this; so utterly careless and uninhibited while Jongin himself found the feeling inside his chest to be the absolute same. It was weird, not because Jongin hated it, but because he'd never known Taemin like he did in this very moment, didn't know the resounding timber of his light voice, and didn't know the easy look directed at him that held nothing but comfort, nothing but trust. Trust in what, Jongin didn't bother thinking about at that moment.

Jongin wondered just how he got here, how he went from the bitter burning in his chest and the oncoming headache ready to take over his head whenever Taemin spat out another teasing jab at him, to the softer warmth flowing through his body that left his hands slightly clammy and his chest squeezing tightly.

“Hey, Taemin,” Jongin spoke into the silence before he could even notice the words had left his mouth. “Do you think Hate and Love are two opposites? Like, north and south?”

Taemin looked over at him, visibly confused at the sudden question. “Where’d that come from?” he laughed, though continued, “But, I don’t think so? Both are very- very passionate, you know? You feel, like, this onslaught of emotions for both Hate and Love, this fiery feeling of passion inside of you. I’d say an actual opposite of Love would be apathy, not caring about the other person at all, not able to be bothered whether they’re there or far gone. Hating someone still makes them valid, still gives them power over your life, in some sense. You still care about them, about the passion they make you feel. I’ve always found Love and Hate to lie closer to each other than we all think, haven’t you?”

Jongin stared at the other for a moment, slightly overwhelmed at the answer and taking time to reflect on what Taemin had said.

He thought about the way his body used to be overtaken with burning resentment whenever he noticed Taemin standing in the practice room during classes, how his heart pounded faster upon hearing the teasing lilt of Taemin’s voice being directed at him, blood rushing with some sick form of adrenalin as he snapped back at him.

He thought about how, now, the burning resentment seemed to have died down into a soft glint of glowing fondness, heart no longer pounding with the adrenaline of fighting with Taemin, but rather with the feeling of Taemin's fingers sliding over his skin or his breath ghosting over his lips. He thought about how he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment the fiery burn had turned into the soft warmth, how he just knew that it somehow did.

Jongin could only nod his head once he found that at no point in time did he ever _not_ care about Taemin in one way or another.

 

Jongin didn’t know how long they’d been sitting here, having long since forgotten to cast a glance at the clock every five minutes once they’d retrieved the ratty yoga-mats from the storage room and set up the old radio Taemin had found between the first-aid kit and the broken-in ballet-shoes, efficiently filling the room with soft-yet-raspy music coming from whatever radio station they’d managed to get connection to.

It only really served as background noise to their talking, to their laughing, neither of them seemingly running out of stories to tell, Jongin taking up the last topic Taemin had talked about and continuing it with a retelling of a story of his own; Taemin talking about his other friend, Jonghyun, a Music-Production Major, to which Jongin responded with an enthusiastic, “ _Chanyeol shares a course with him!_ ”, both of them proceeding to tell each other about the annoying things their friends wanted them to do, about the embarrassing non-sense everyone would spew around them when they’d drunk just a few drinks too much.

Jongin’s chest felt tighter as Taemin talked about how he didn’t really like to party, would rather spend his time outside, walking around some park or the nearby river and talk, didn’t like the taste alcohol would leave on his tongue whenever he would be dragged out by Kibum and Jonghyun. Tight, so tight, because it was so similar to him, Jongin had a hard time processing it.

Taemin asked him why he danced, and Jongin stumbled over his words in an effort to get the perfect answer out. _“I want to express myself in other ways,”_ he’d said eventually, _“I’ve always had problems handling emotions the right way, I guess. I was never really able to show them how I wanted to, at least not with words. Someday I realized I didn’t really need words.”_

Taemin had looked at him for a long time, silence filled with some song currently on-top of the charts coming from the radio in the corner, his eyes soft in a way Jongin didn’t know or simply never acknowledged before, lips pulled into an easy, barely-there smile that Jongin would dare to describe as _fond_ had it not been for the way his mind had been reeling with the urge to trace the line of Taemin’s cupid’s bow with his thumb.

The light sound of Taemin’s laugh had snapped him out of the traitorous thought, his gaze averting instantly from where they were trained on Taemin’s lips that were now pulled in between his teeth. _“You really are something, Kim Jongin,”_ Taemin had said, in a way that sounded so self-assured Jongin would’ve been annoyed had it been any different time.

Taemin didn’t elaborate. Jongin didn’t push him to. Not when he could see Taemin look at him with an almost calculating gaze, as if he himself hadn’t even fathomed what he’d meant yet, as if there was something he hadn’t quite figured out about Jongin. A last piece to a puzzle, missing somewhere in between the instructions.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, as Taemin was telling him about the time he got lost on campus on the second week of college, Jongin wondered how long it would take either of them to find that piece.

Though maybe he didn’t need to wonder right now, simply needed to let his chest tighten and his eyes stay glued to the way Taemin’s hands gestured around wildly to whatever story was leaving his lips at the moment, the way his eyes seemed so immersing Jongin figured he might as well be staring out of the big window opposite them and up into the clear night sky.

Jongin let his head lean against the wall behind him, lolling it slightly to the side to be able to look at Taemin, keeping their gazes locked still as their words exchanged turned into sleep-deprived non-sense and sluggish giggles, surroundings growing blurry with increasingly heavier eyelids.

 

Jongin woke up to his neck feeling like it was about to snap and his spine bent in what felt like a ninety-degree angle.

Slowly blinking his eyes open, he was relieved to see bright sunrays streaming through the window into the room, making the dust particles flying through the air visible. Taemin’s shoulder was too boney to be comfortable, though Jongin really didn’t want to shove Taemin’s head resting on top of his own too much by moving away.

He settled on enduring the discomfort in his muscles, waiting for Taemin to wake up while Jongin focused on the warmth the morning sun brought into the room and the feeling of Taemin’s hair tickling the side of his face. He nearly let out a sigh of relief when he felt Taemin stir slightly, a soft groan leaving his mouth as Jongin felt him lift his head off Jongin’s.

Jongin straightened himself up, wincing at the stiffness of his whole body while rubbing his neck.

“Good morning,” Taemin mumbled, a raspy chuckle leaving both their lips at the tone of his voice, “God, I feel like shit.”

Jongin tried not to let the roughness of Taemin’s morning-voice take over every part of his mind, settling on a meek, “yeah, me too,” with amusement lacing his tone.

Taemin tried turning on his phone then, only to be rewarded with the empty battery symbol. “What time is it?”

Jongin turned around slightly and glanced up, catching sight of the old clock hanging above the door. “Nearly seven. The door might be open already, the janitor usually opens the rooms at around six.”

Taemin exhaled heavily, getting to his feet with a frown etched on his face. “I feel like I slept on a stone,” he said, stretching out his back, “I’ve never appreciated sleeping in dorm beds in my first year enough.”

Jongin agreed with a laugh, watching Taemin approach the door with a hopeful expression. Taemin pushed the handle down and let out a disbelieving laugh as the door creaked open.

“Oh, thank _God._ I actually thought we’d be stuck in here forever,” Taemin breathed, letting the door fall shut again.

Jongin shook his head slightly at the excited tone in Taemin’s voice, though got up himself to store away the yoga mats as Taemin put the radio back into the storage closet.

They took their bags and walked out of the practice room, both too tired to follow any conversation as they made their way down the stairs and across campus until they parted ways, their apartments apparently located in opposite directions.

“Well, that was fun,” Taemin had said, Jongin just looking at the ground and laughing. “It was an experience, for sure,” he replied before nearly jerking away when he felt Taemin move to grasp his forearm, squeezing lightly while keeping his gaze on Jongin. He smiled in reply to Taemin’s small goodbye, feeling the spot where Taemin’s hand had lingered run cold when it was let go and they both turned around to continue their way to their apartments.

Jongin couldn’t bother forcing away the smile tugging at his lips or his own fingers coming to hold onto his forearm the whole way home. He quietly thought that he should maybe figure out why his chest felt like it was enveloped in a tangled mess of strings anytime soon.

 

 

-

 

 

The next training sessions were-

 _Interesting,_ Jongin mused in his head with lingering confusion mixing in.

Because, ever since the night spent in the practice room, their rehearsals seemed less like _rehearsals_ but rather like just dancing solemnly for fun, no underlying doubts of receiving a bad grade or messing up the choreography. It felt like passing time with a friend, leaving Jongin in bed later at night feeling more relaxed than exhausted, the tension in his muscles feeling satisfying rather than burdensome.

Running through their routine with the song thrumming through the room had never felt more natural to Jongin; his body seemingly flowing perfectly along with Taemin’s, the moves barely registering in his brain as he just let himself be, _just like Taemin had said._

Jongin tried not to let his gaze linger too long on Taemin’s eyes, his lips, as they stood frozen against each other at the end of the song, staying like that for longer than necessary for sure. He tried not to let his eyes flick down to Taemin’s full lips, not let himself track the movement of Taemin’s tongue as he licked his lips, not let himself slip further into whatever _thing_ he has already fallen into.

Those moments were broken, usually by Jongin backing away when the feeling of Taemin’s breath on his own lips and the warmth of Taemin’s hand over his became too much, the seemingly faraway urge to feel the soft lips on his own creeping closer as Taemin’s eyes averted from Jongin’s down to his mouth and back up again. The rough sound of Jongin clearing his throat would echo through the room before the song would start up again and fill the deafening silence seemingly taunting him from where he was trying to force as much water as possible into his dry mouth.

The tense air stretching around them would be interrupted by Taemin letting out some teasing remark, something about _Jongin finally learning to let loose,_ the statements pulling a snort and a smile from Jongin in place of the previously-usual sneers and hard scowls.

It was around a week after the lock-in affair when Taemin stumbled into the practice room five minutes late, Jongin already opening his mouth to pester him for being the one who's late, though snapping his mouth shut when he saw the two plastic cups precariously held in Taemin's right hand, the other busy trying to wrap his earplugs around his phone and into his pocket.

“I know, I know, _Taemin, see, it’s not me being late!_ ” Taemin started, kicking the door shut behind him and dropping his bag to the floor, “But I have good reasons!”

Jongin laughed, watching Taemin shuffle through his bag until he pulled out his worn-out Vans. “And what would those reasons be?” he asked, a taunting lilt to his voice as his lips formed into a smirk.

“Well, there’s really only one,” Taemin muttered, rubbing at his neck while slipping into the shoes. Jongin’s smirk dropped into a light smile, unconsciously focusing on Taemin’s careless glint in his eyes. “I got us some of those iced teas you made me the other day. No idea if they’re the right ones, though. I just chose whatever looked closest to the one you told me you liked.”

Taemin walked toward Jongin, holding out the cold drink for Jongin to take. They took a few sips, sighing at the cooling sensation in their throats in contrast to the heat overtaking the practice room. Jongin set the cup down on the window sill, hopping off from where he was sitting and leaning against the window. He wiped his hands on the fabric of his sweatpants, ridding himself of the water that had dripped down the plastic.

Taemin set his own drink down, grabbing his phone from his pocket and turning around to connect it to the speakers. “Let’s go then, shall we?”

Jongin looked at Taemin from the side; shirt hanging loosely over his frame and nearly slipping off one shoulder, exposing his collarbones, hair messier than usual and, Jongin noticed, roots having grown out quite a bit, the dark brown a stark contrast to the bright blonde strands. Just then, Taemin threw his head back a bit to get rid of some stray hair falling into his face, the hand not currently swiping over the display of his phone coming up to brush through it and leaving it even more disheveled than before.

Jongin took a breath, forcing his gaze away from Taemin. He grabbed his drink again, taking a big gulp of the ice-cold liquid. “Yeah,” he said, voice barely above a murmur, “let’s go.”

 

 

-

 

 

It’s crazy, how one thing could lead to another. How hate could lead to respect, and respect to trust.

Though, the more Jongin thinks about it, it wasn’t crazy at all. Because, how could he not grow fond of the way Taemin laughed, all creased eyes and full cheeks, or the way he would still throw snarky remarks at Jongin after their rehearsals, however no longer accompanying them with the glint of malice in his eyes and instead ending his sentence with a lighthearted laugh followed by a lingering touch of his fingers against Jongin’s arm.

How couldn’t he, if he wasn’t even able to look away from the way Taemin’s eyes tracked each movement that Jongin’s hands traced across his body or the way Taemin tended to blink too much and too hard whenever he was amused or nervous.

He’d noticed that the whole thing was probably more than merely being _fond_ of Taemin, of solemnly respecting him. It was a tingling in the tips of his fingers whenever he was inches away from Taemin, close enough to touch but the situation making him unable to do so without it seeming weird. It was the warmness in his chest as they talked about everything and nothing at all, any walls between them seemingly broken down and unable to be put back up. It was the feeling of comfort he got while looking at Taemin dance freely, without the restraint of having to follow a choreography, all free moves and smooth steps to warm up his muscles.

It was the breathtaking moment as Taemin closed the distance between their faces and connected their mouths, his lips soft and full and _so perfect_ against Jongin’s.

Jongin didn't know what was happening until it had actually _happened,_ because how could he have expected Taemin’s hand coming up to rest against the back of Jongin’s neck and pulling him down just the slightest bit before Taemin tilted his own head up and stood frozen for just a second before closing his eyes and leaning forward that last bit.

Jongin’s mind was racing yet still utterly empty, and it took Taemin already pulling away for him to catch up with the situation currently at hand, hastily sliding his hand from the side of Taemin’s face to the back of his head and pulling him back in, this time not standing paralyzed and unmoving against him.

He felt Taemin sigh into the kiss before turning around to stand chest-to-chest with Jongin, the previous position putting a strain on his neck at the angle. Their song was already halfway through again, just starting the second chorus when Jongin felt Taemin’s lips part and his tongue slide over his own pliant ones, Jongin gasping slightly and tugging at the strands of Taemin’s hair as he opened his mouth to let Taemin’s tongue slide along his own.

Taemin tasted like the iced tea he opted to bring to practice at least twice a week, the sweet minty flavor mixing with something that was so entirely _Taemin_ Jongin couldn’t ever find a way to describe it other than completely and utterly consuming, _addicting._

Taemin pulled away eventually, dragging his teeth slightly over Jongin’s bottom lip while putting more distance between them and making Jongin chase after his mouth, embarrassingly desperate to feel Taemin’s lips against his just a tad bit longer. Taemin huffed a breathy laugh at that, his thumb stroking over the skin of Jongin’s neck in a circular motion, and Jongin only now remembered to open his eyes again, his gaze immediately locking with Taemin’s so, so intense one.

Taemin was smiling – not the smile where his eyes formed crescents and his cheeks bulged out, but the one where it barely even tugged up the corners of his mouth, his eyes seemingly only having one thing to focus on, a deep glint and an almost awestruck gaze intently locked on Jongin.

Jongin felt the movements of Taemin’s thumb against his neck halt, replaced with his palm simply resting firmly on Jongin’s skin as Taemin seemed to take a deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed for too long to be considered a blink.

It was a few seconds that felt like hours later that he spoke up, the quiet and raspy voice seemingly still too loud for the harsh silence slowly suffocating Jongin. “I’ve wanted to do that for, uh, a while now.”

Jongin blinked a few times, words not really registering in his brain as he faced the floor and felt a smile take over his face, soft laughs falling from his mouth. He lifted his head again eventually, letting his gaze fall back on Taemin’s awaiting expression. Jongin would call it _anxious_ if he didn’t know Taemin any better.

“Yeah,” Jongin managed, clearing his throat at the croaky sound of his voice, “I did, too. Longer than I knew, I think.”

Taemin exhaled, his breath fanning over Jongin’s cheeks as his expression contorted into one of relief. “Thank God, this would’ve been really awkward otherwise,” he said, laughing lightheartedly before laying his head down on Jongin’s shoulder, eyelashes brushing the juncture of his neck with each blink and making goosebumps raise on Jongin’s skin.

Jongin chuckled softly, running his hands through the messy strands of Taemin’s hair, watching the dark roots fade abruptly into the pale bleached blonde. When Taemin lifted his head again, Jongin let his arms rest on either of Taemin’s shoulders, silently taking note of the lazy smile resting on Taemin’s face, as if he didn’t even realize it was there, as if it was the most natural reaction upon looking at Jongin.

Taemin leaned in quickly, leaving a soft, lingering kiss on Jongin’s mouth, though pulling away before Jongin could properly reciprocate. Taemin laughed at the small pout Jongin found forming on his lips, saying, “We still have practice going on, and I kinda don’t wanna be locked in here again. I’d rather spend my night with you somewhere else.”

With that, Taemin turned around and resumed the song still repeating itself over and over again, leaving Jongin smiling dumbly before shaking his head in an attempt to clear his head.

Nothing had ever felt quite as much of a promise to Jongin as the last fifteen minutes had, especially with Taemin later texting him and asking whether he wanted to get iced tea sometimes, the question seeming so unneeded after everything that had happened during their rehearsal.

Jongin still took five minutes to type out a reply, hoping his suggestions of when they could meet up didn’t tell Taemin that Jongin knew his schedule by heart by now.

Taemin's teasing response made it obvious that he knew, but the image that entered Jongin's head – Taemin smiling that lazy smile or that wholehearted grin after reading his text – made Jongin unable to feel anything else besides the soft warmth filling his chest.

 

 

-

 

 

It turned out that Jongin stressing for three days straight over his date with Taemin was unnecessary, because sitting opposite of him in the back of the coffee shop while laughing about things everyone else would probably just roll their eyes at, Jongin found spending time with Taemin easier than breathing.

There weren’t the usual doubts of what to say in the corners of Jongin’s mind, no traces of the thoughts telling him to stop talking or to cover his mouth while laughing, the sound of Taemin’s voice telling him about the time he forgot to choreograph a dance and just freestyled something on stage or about the process of getting over his parents’ disapproval of him pursuing dance instead of law the only thing filling his ears.

“I’m from a family of lawyers,” Taemin had said, stirring his straw around the melting ice swimming in his drink, “so they made it clear that they weren’t happy about my choices. They told me they’d only pay my apartment and tuition if I studied something, and I quote, _useful and reliable that I can build a life on._ ”

Jongin was silent for a moment, wondering how he could’ve ever missed all the things they had in common. He hummed eventually before saying, “My parents were pretty much the same, just that they wanted me to study accounting or some shit. Now I work here and live in a ratty apartment with my friend and barely have enough money to buy bottled water from the vending machine next to our practice room, but, hey, I’m happier than I would be if I was sitting in a lecture with people wearing suits going on and on about how to run a business.”

Taemin laughed and nodded, sipping from the drink in his hand. He spoke up again after setting the cup down. “I get you. Kibum’s my roommate, and we kinda live off of ramen and take-out. Our teacher would kill me if she knew about my non-existent diet,” he chuckled, eyes focusing back on Jongin from where they were tracing lines on their table.

Jongin smiled, agreeing with a lighthearted hum before reaching out and laying his fingers on top of Taemin’s. “I used to think I hated you, you know.”

Taemin snorted at that, free hand coming up to cover his mouth as he tried to control his laughter. “Well, that’s a nice first-date conversation if I’ve ever heard one,” he eventually said, eyes bright with amusement.

Jongin mirrored his grin, trying to speak around the laughter bubbling in his throat. “To be fair, you wouldn’t stop with all those teasing remarks and shit until I was ready to punch you in the face.”

Taemin sighed lightly, grin morphing in something nearly reminiscing. “Ah, your reactions were just too funny. Your left eye twitches whenever you’re annoyed, and your voice kinda pitched higher whenever you talked back at me, I really couldn’t help it.”

Jongin raised his eyebrows at that, mouth slightly agape. “I’m glad my pain served as a form of entertainment for you,” he exclaimed incredulously, though immediately giving into the insistent pull of the corners of his mouth. Taemin let out a wheezing laugh, moving his fingers from under Jongin’s to lace them together instead.

“How’d you come to the realization that you didn’t actually want to rip my face off?” He asked after their laughter died down.

Jongin made a thoughtful noise, he himself curious about the answer to that question. “I don’t know, really. I guess I noticed that we were more alike than I thought. And you’re pretty amazing to be around, you know? Just talking to you was too effortless, I really couldn’t dislike that.”

“Well,” Taemin started, leaning closer to Jongin over the table separating them, “I think you’re pretty amazing to be around, too. Even if I never hated you; quite the opposite, actually. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t tease you all this time because I wanted your attention – that would’ve been a bit too much _Tsundere Simulator,_ even for me – but it was hard _not_ to admire you, with the way you dance and always completely give yourself over to your work or performance or anything, really.”

Jongin dragged his hand not lying in Taemin’s over his face, feeling the blush rush to his cheeks, whole face feeling hot. “Shut up, you can’t just- ”

Taemin cut him off, though, laughter lacing his voice. “Why not? It’s true, stop being so modest. The first time I saw you dance I thought you were some stuck-up asshole because you just _oozed_ confidence, every move was like you were telling me how much hotter and better you were than anyone else.”

Jongin shook his head slightly, smile never leaving his lips. “You don’t get to say anything, Mr. _Just-let-go-and-feel-the-music,_ you wanted it like that!” He laughed, eyes trained on the bright flicker taking over Taemin’s gaze.

Taemin hummed, sliding back a bit to sit comfortably in his chair again, his weight no longer supported on the table. “Maybe I did, but are you complaining?” He then asked, teasing glint back in his eyes, though a soft smile occupying his lips.

Jongin glanced down at their joined hands for a second before training his gaze back on Taemin, trying not to lose his line of thought with the way Taemin was looking at him. _As if there wasn’t anything else to look at._

He smiled just a tad bit wider, fingers squeezing Taemin’s so lightly Jongin was unsure whether the other had even felt it. “I guess I’m not,” he breathed into the air between them, just loud enough for Taemin to hear over the commotion happening around them.

Taemin’s smile – the one that might go down as Jongin’s favorite, all small details and private glints, looking like it was meant solely for Jongin – lifted his whole expression. His fingers tightened around Jongin’s, too, eventually, and Jongin felt like nothing could ever compare to the feeling seizing in his lungs, his head, his heart.

 

It was late when they stepped out of the café, the last rays of sunshine having long since disappeared between tall buildings and singled-out trees, and Jongin would've felt bad about staying in the coffee shop for so long that the employee working the closing shift had to ask them to leave, but Taemin never let go of his hand, even while they were struggling to get to their metro station, squeezing between bodies in a hurry.

Their fingers were kept laced together, the furthest they went to letting go was only leaving their pinkies intertwined, and Jongin reveled in the way he was holding Taemin’s hand in his lap while they were seated on the train, Taemin’s thumb running soft circles along his knuckles as they refrained from talking, the loud rumble of the subway too loud to speak comfortably. They settled on sitting probably-too-close together, every jolt the metro gave making their thighs and shoulders bump against each other, and Jongin couldn’t keep the smile from forming on his face as he felt Taemin tap the rhythm of their song against the back of Jongin’s hand.

They got out at the stop of their college, Taemin tugging at Jongin’s hand as he jumped off the train first, making Jongin stumble slightly and invade Taemin’s personal space more than he intended and leaving them nearly chest-to-chest in the thankfully-more-peaceful metro station as they felt the rush of wind of the train taking off behind them.

Jongin looked at Taemin, catching his gaze easily as it was already directed at him. Taemin's eyes had the same glimmer in them that they had the whole time they've been together today, but in the low lights of the underground station, it seemed to be all the more intense. Jongin wasn't really sure if it was the lights that were responsible for that, though.

Taemin’s mouth curled up again, the slightest curve to his full lips, leaving Jongin unable to keep his eyes from flicking down for a second just as Taemin’s tongue came out to wet his lips. When Jongin looked back up and saw Taemin’s gaze locked on _his own_ lips, he slowly albeit surely brought his free hand up to lay against Taemin’s cheek, making his eyes dart back to Jongin’s almost instantly.

Jongin leaned forward, only slightly tipping his head closer though effectively leaving them sharing each breath, silently willing Taemin to close the last bit of distance between their mouths. It didn’t take longer than two furious heart beats inside Jongin’s chest for Taemin to do so, bringing his hand up to rest at the back of Jongin’s neck before slightly brushing the tips of their noses together, the action pulling a breathy laugh from Jongin’s throat and leaving his lips stretched into a smile even as Taemin’s own finally settled onto them.

It was blissfully slow, filled with a sense of passion that made Jongin forget about everything around him that wasn’t _Taemin_ and _Taemin’s lips opening under his_ and _Taemin’s scent seemingly consuming every single one of his senses._ It was similar to their last kiss yet so incredibly different; no trace of the urgency or the impatience their kiss in the practice room consisted of, every slide of their mouths against each other almost controlled, focused, as if neither of them wanted to miss the sensation of their tongues lazily tangling together, Jongin’s mind hazy as he distinctly registered that sweet, minty taste with just that tinge of _something_ to be the same it was those few days ago.

They parted as they heard the next train arrive at the metro station, the heavy rumble filling the otherwise eerily silent environment. Taemin leaned his forehead against Jongin’s for a few heavy moments, not doing anything more than simply looking at Jongin in a way that made him want to pull Taemin into another kiss, into the urgent kind they had shared in the practice room.

He didn’t, though; not with the train coming to a halt behind them and the sound of the abundant doors sliding open cutting through the air surrounding them. He settled on squeezing Taemin’s hand a final time before taking half a step into the direction of the exit. “Let’s not get arrested for public indecency tonight, come on,” Jongin said, slightly tugging Taemin along with a laugh.

Taemin chuckled as he took two bigger steps to walk next to Jongin again. “Not _tonight,_ ” he said, and when Jongin turned his head to look at him, he couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at the suggestive expression dancing along Taemin’s features.

“Never took you for an exhibitionist, Lee Taemin,” Jongin hummed, mock seriousness lacing his voice. Taemin slapped his shoulder slightly, indignant noise leaving his throat. “It’s too early for you to be judging my kinks, Kim Jongin,” he said, bumping his shoulder playfully against Jongin’s, “you gotta take me on a few more dates to do that.”

Taemin was all frisky gazes and flirtatious smiles, and Jongin found it hard to look away as they walked up the uneven stairs to the college’s campus.

“I guess I can do that,” Jongin said eventually, focus now trained on not tripping on the concrete stairs, though he could easily feel Taemin’s gaze solely remaining on him. It made his smile remain in place effortlessly, as it usually did whenever he was with Taemin, Jongin realized. Everything seemingly falling into place naturally, genuinely.

Jongin never wanted to let go of the feeling seizing his whole being, and he thinks he understands now what the poets mean by the warmth enveloping you and the lightheadedness leaving you dizzy whenever you’re with _that person._

He didn’t, however, understand the common description of it being terrifying, because Jongin didn’t think he could feel more at ease, more able to give himself over, than right now, with Taemin’s fingers laced with his own and their sides pressing together with each step because neither of them wanted to put more space between each other.

 

They arrived at Jongin’s apartment complex after walking for over twenty minutes instead of the usual ten it took Jongin to get there, every other step interrupted by Taemin playfully shoving Jongin off the sidewalk and onto the deserted street or Jongin unintentionally slowing down while listening to Taemin talk animatedly, focusing intently on the expressive movements of the hand not still enveloped in Jongin’s.

“You really didn’t have to come all the way over here,” Jongin said now, feeling slightly guilty about Taemin now having to walk back another thirty minutes to get to his own apartment.

Taemin only shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I like to go on late-night walks anyway, don’t worry about it,” he said, letting his hand slip out of Jongin’s grasp in favor of allowing him to search for his keys, “and I would’ve come with you no matter what, gotta make sure you get home safe.”

Jongin unlocked the door, kicking it open before facing Taemin again. “Okay, I am _taller_ than you!” He exclaimed, though smiling at the grin taking over Taemin’s face.

Taemin stepped closer then, their chests brushing together and noses nearly touching. Jongin swallowed hard when he saw the look in Taemin’s eyes, soft around the edges yet filled with _something_ Jongin couldn’t really explain. It made him feel like he was drowning, engulfed in the darkness of Taemin’s eyes. “But also prettier,” Taemin then breathed, the words spoken into the minimal space between them, so close Jongin could nearly taste them.

“Liar,” Jongin muttered back, forcing himself to keep his gaze trained on Taemin even as the other let his hand slide up Jongin’s arm until he had it settled on Jongin’s shoulder, the grip warm and reassuring in an almost possessive way.

It didn’t take long for their lips to fall on top of each other once again, the kiss less open-mouthed and more _I’ll see you soon._ It made Jongin sigh into it as their mouths moved together, the noise of the TV playing inside Jongin’s apartment only dimly registering in his mind when they broke apart again.

Taemin leaned back a bit, no longer wanting to look up at Jongin. “I really enjoyed today,” he said then, and Jongin wanted to engrave the shy smile on Taemin’s face into his mind forever.

Jongin felt his lips curl up, eyes scrunching at the corners. “Me too. A lot.”

They just stood there for a few moments, and the sight would’ve probably been incredibly weird for anyone witnessing it; them just standing in the stairway of Jongin’s apartment, smiling dumbly at each other and not wanting to break the gazes locked onto each other.

“Well,” Taemin said eventually, clearing his throat slightly, “I guess I’ll let you finally enter your home.” He laughed, the sound echoing through the stairwell. Jongin chuckled a bit, saying his own good-bye’s while watching Taemin turn around with a small wave, bordering on awkward in the most endearing way.

Jongin heaved a breath as he listened to the sound of Taemin’s steps reverberating through the building, eventually turning around, too, and stepping inside the apartment, kicking his shoes off and dropping his small backpack to the floor before kicking the door shut again.

Jongin thinks he survived a minor heart-attack when he saw Sehun come up next to him out of nowhere.

“Jesus! Do you not make any noise when you move?” Jongin exclaimed, holding his hand over his chest in an exaggerated manner. Sehun chuckled, clapping Jongin on the shoulder twice before simply letting out, “So?”

Jongin stared at him for a few moments, not really sure what Sehun expected from him. “What do you mean _So?_ There’s nothing to _So?_ ” He walked around Sehun and into their kitchen, opening the fridge to get the left-over’s of Sehun’s pizza he’d ordered the day before. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the sight of the loads of olives on top of it.

“There _is,_ though,” Sehun said, voice muffled from where Jongin had his head still stuck in the fridge. “You didn’t tell me you were dating Taemin now.”

Jongin sighed slightly, pushing the fridge shut again before sitting down at the kitchen table, picking the black olives off the pizza. “We’re not dating. I think.”

Sehun scoffed, hopping onto the counter opposite Jongin. “You _think?_ How can you not know if you’re dating someone?”

Jongin shrugged. “We went on our first date today. You don’t really announce a relationship that early.” Sehun looked at him slightly incredulously before saying, “It may have been your first date, but there’s been some awful sexual tension between you two for _way_ longer.”

Jongin spluttered a bit, fingers halting where they were still picking at the olives. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he then said, voice a pitch higher than usual.

Sehun smirked, hopping off the counter and grabbing the pizza box to shove it in the microwave to heat it up. “Sure you don’t,” he mumbled, just loud enough that he could be sure Jongin heard him.

They stood in the kitchen in silence then, the only sound being the still-playing TV-Show coming from the living room and the continuous humming from the microwave. Jongin took his phone out of his back pocket, swiping over the screen to delete the useless notifications.

“Do you want to, though?” Sehun’s voice sounded from where he was still perched on the counter next to the microwave, making Jongin’s head snap up. “Do I want to _what_?” He asked, frown etching onto his face.

Sehun sighed exasperatedly. “To date Taemin. God, you’re so slow.”

Jongin scoffed. “I’m not _slow,_ ” he said, readjusting on the chair he was sitting on and trying not to smile too hard when he felt his phone vibrate and Taemin’s name pop up on the display. “But I don’t know. I guess? Today was really great. Chanyeol was right, we really do have a lot in common,” Jongin continued, a small smile taking over his expression.

Sehun chuckled slightly, hopping off the counter just before the microwave beeped. “Man, you’re _whipped,_ ” he said, shaking his head playfully as he took the pizza out and walked back into the living room.

Jongin stood up, following Sehun to eat his fair share of pizza, though not before sending his reply to Taemin’s text, a quick _‘Me too, a lot. See you tomorrow’_ in answer to the _‘I really liked today’_.

 _So what if I am?_ He asked himself silently as he sat down next to Sehun on the couch. At the moment, Jongin couldn’t imagine anything feeling better than being absolutely and utterly whipped for Taemin, couldn’t imagine anything else making his whole being feel the lightest it has ever felt. Jongin really couldn’t want it any other way.

 

 

-

 

 

Rehearsals came and went, and Jongin tried not to get too worked up over their due-date being less than a week away.

It wasn’t as if their routine was somehow lacking, not with them filing each and every move down to perfection since they’d finished the choreography nearly three weeks ago. It was more the apprehension of what might happen to him and Taemin.

He and Taemin, who had started to visit the café Jongin worked at every day after practice since their first official date, always ordering the same iced-teas while arguing about who would pay for the other. He and Taemin, who had only managed to stop antagonizing each other after multiple weeks of being forced to train together, of being made to create a routine, a form of art, together.

He and Taemin, who had built something on a speck of nothing, on something that Jongin used to call _hate_ but now might even refer to as something not even too different from that.

And yet, it was him and Taemin who had seen each other nearly every day in the same practice room – the one in the far back, no one’s ever there – for nearly three months, and the small yet loud voice in the corner of Jongin’s mind kept asking him _What now?_

What now, without having the prerequisite of meeting up? What now-

“Stop,” Jongin heard, Taemin’s voice clear even through the loud clattering happening around them.

Jongin shook his head, confused. “With what?”

Taemin took a sip of the cold tea standing in front of him. Jongin traced the lines the condensed water left on the wooden table. “Overthinking whatever you’re stuck on right now. Your forehead won’t be half as pretty with frown-wrinkles all over it.” He reached over the table to smooth over the skin, thumbs nearly caressing on Jongin’s face.

Jongin sighed, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes for a moment before looking back at Taemin. He was smiling softly, blinking a couple times before dropping his hands, fingers finding Jongin’s almost instantly to lace them together. “So,” Taemin started again, one hand shaking the melting ice inside his drink, “what had you so distracted that you couldn’t laugh at my story of Jonghyun tripping on the stairs this morning?”

Jongin laughed slightly. “I’m sorry, I guess my mind’s just all over the performance in a few days, and, y’know.” He made some awkward movement with his hand, doubting that even he himself understood what he meant with that.

Taemin cocked his head to the side slightly. “I know _what_?”

Jongin winced slightly, wondering just how stupid he's going to sound now. "It's dumb, really," he vocalizes and sees Taemin shake his head before Jongin's words had even left his mouth completely. "Nothing that has your head this in the clouds is dumb. Tell me!" He urged, voice encouraging, bordering on impatient. Jongin smiled.

“Well, we-, “ he halted, already unsure on how to continue, “We’re not gonna stop seeing each other after we’re done with this, right?” And, wow, that _did_ sound horribly stupid.

Taemin scoffed slightly, playfully, before pinching a piece of skin on Jongin’s hand between two nails. “Of course not, unless you want that. If you haven’t noticed, I really like being around you, and I’m also kinda happy this whole project is over. It was getting boring only seeing you in sweaty clothes but not being able to do anything about it.”

Jongin choked on a laugh, eyes widening in amusement. “You really have a way with words,” he said, words laced with light laughter. “But, yeah, I really like being around you, too. And I’m sure you’ll not be bored anymore soon.”

Taemin smirked, one eyebrow raising up. “Is that an implication I hear?” He teased, voice heavy in the crowded café.

Jongin leaned back in his chair a bit, his fingers tapping over Taemin’s hand to the rhythm of the song filling the room. He hummed, feeling the teasing smile stretch over his lips. “Maybe, I might be, who knows?”

It didn’t take either of them more than five seconds to burst out laughing, making the students a few tables over squint angrily into their direction, though neither of them noticed, too immersed in the picture that the other painted; all squinted eyes and thrown back heads, careless laughs and tangled hands. Jongin felt like he was able to breathe, finally.

 

 

-

 

 

The air around them was quiet as they stood on stage, all eyes on them with only the scribble of their teacher’s pencil interrupting the silence. Jongin closed his eyes for a second, basking in the few last calm moments, feeling the warmth Taemin’s back exuded from where he was nearly pressed against Jongin’s chest. He picked up on Taemin lifting his shoulders, rolling them back slightly, making himself appear taller, the movement followed by a heavy exhale of air.

The lights focused on them seemed to be even brighter than they usually were, verging on blinding, nearly uncomfortable. _Just right_. Jongin’s grip tightened on Taemin’s waist. His thumb pressed softly into Taemin’s shoulder blade. Jongin could tell Taemin was smiling even from where he was standing behind him.

The first beat of music surged through the room, and Jongin felt like there was electricity running through him with the way his body seemed to move on its own, apart from his mind, guided by Taemin’s hand laying over his. It was different, the sense of intimacy not gone but dulled by dancing on a stage with all gazes locked on their every move, no longer in the privacy of a lone practice room.

Jongin felt the burn of having too many eyes on him subside once Taemin put the distance their choreography required between them, his gaze staying locked onto Taemin intently all the while. His mind blurred, no longer telling him to _turn-left-front-right-jump_ , body solely moving to the music with the memory of all his and Taemin’s rehearsals in the back of his mind.

It was nearly astonishing to Jongin at that moment; how seamlessly and perfectly they came together again, how easily Taemin matched him, how utterly harmonious their moves together were. It would've surprised Jongin, maybe even scared him, had it not been for the countless afternoons, evenings, nights spent together talking, laughing, harmonizing in ways Jongin himself didn't even fully comprehend.

He doesn’t think he has to, though, not if staying unsure won’t change anything about the way he was feeling right now, with the last pulses of the song strumming through the air, Taemin flowing back into Jongin as the last beats hit, waiting for Jongin to slide his hand to the side of his face.

Jongin does, and he wonders just what exactly he can do to keep himself from kissing someone.

He settles on holding Taemin’s cheek just a tad bit tighter, thumb stroking over a cheekbone in a way that altered from their routine just enough so they wouldn’t get points taken away for not following their own choreography. Taemin’s smile only reaches his eyes, the soft glint differencing from the hard expression taking over the rest of his face, stage persona breaking for only Jongin to see.

They kept their stance probably a few seconds too long, the auditorium already filled with the applause of the other students as they put distance that was deemed more appropriate between each other. They bowed thankfully after averting their gazes from one another, walking off the stage to grab their bags before heading out, fortunately not having to hang back since they were the last pair to perform.

It was only when they were outside that they both heaved a deep breath, and Jongin thinks he could visibly see the tension of training non-stop for three months wash out of Taemin, his shoulders lowering and posture loosening as he looked over at Jongin.

Jongin grinned once he fully took in Taemin’s expression; all heavy relief and soft exhaustion, smile tired but eyes screaming that _they did it._

“Well,” Taemin breathed, taking a step closer to Jongin, bumping their shoulders against each other, “that was a wild ride. An experience, for sure.”

Jongin snorted, agreeing with a strong nod. “I gotta say, I was around ninety percent sure I was gonna beat you up somewhere along the line of these months. Not that I’m complaining about how we ended up,” he said, linking his pinky with Taemin’s as they started walking toward the school gates.

Taemin laughed; the light, breathy sound that Jongin has come to recognize so painfully well reverberating pleasantly in his ears. “That’s reassuring to hear. Though, I didn’t really expect to snatch you as a boyfriend, either.”

Taemin said it without even glancing over at Jongin, eyes focused on the path in front of him, and Jongin thinks he might be flying with the way his mind felt like it was ten feet above the clouds. He moved just a tad bit closer to Taemin then, unsure if the other even noticed it, though with the way he squeezed Jongin’s finger only ever so slightly, Jongin thinks that Taemin got the message pretty clearly.

 

 

 Sehun, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol desperately tried getting Jongin to go to some club with them, claiming that _‘you deserve it for working so hard, Jongin! Come on!’,_ though Jongin vehemently declined, repeating over and over that he was _tired_ and just wanted to sleep.

In hindsight, he doesn’t know if it was a good idea or the absolute _worst_ one he’s ever had to tell them that Taemin was coming over and that he wouldn’t, under any circumstances, drag him to a club with them. It got them to stop trying to get him to come with, though not without Baekhyun making some innuendo only he would find funny at every chance he got.

“ _Ah, I see how it is,” he’d said, eyebrows raising up, " _already ditching us to fuck around with your boyfriend, I’m hurt, Jonginnie- “__

__

Jongin _also_ didn’t know if Taemin’s interrupting knock at the door was a blessing or a curse, but since it got Baekhyun to cut off whatever he was going to say, Jongin supposes it couldn’t be that bad.

__

The overly excited, “Oh, is that him?!” made him doubt whatever relief started forming in his mind as he walked over to the door, muttering over his shoulder, “I swear to God, if you guys bother him like you’re bothering _me,_ I’m changing the locks of the apartment.”

__

Chanyeol’s indignant noise was weirdly satisfying to Jongin, making him able to open the door a bit more confidently now.

__

It's almost scary, how Taemin managed to steal his breath without so much as uttering a word, solely standing at the doorstep with that easy smile on his lips that turned brighter and brighter as Jongin swung the door open.

__

“Hi,” Jongin said, maybe a little breathier than usual, stepping back a little to let Taemin step inside. Taemin uttered his own greetings before shuffling his shoes off, turning back to Jongin once he arranged them neatly. He cast a glance to the side, throwing a quick wave to the others still standing there.

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Jongin rolled his eyes, sighing annoyedly. “That’s Sehun, my roommate, and Chanyeol and Baekhyun. They were about to leave.”

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Taemin huffed out a laugh, moving just a bit closer to Jongin, their sides brushing together. “Ah, I’ve heard a lot about you guys,” he said, grinning slightly.

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“Only good things, I hope,” Baekhyun said, voice expectant in an almost amusing way. Taemin only hummed in that playful way Jongin didn’t know anyone recognized who didn’t know Taemin long enough. “Fifty-Fifty, probably.”

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Jongin snorted, stifling a laugh behind his palm as their faces grew incredulous. “As I said, though,” he started again, looking at Sehun, because he was probably the one with the most understanding. “They were just leaving.”

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Sehun, bless his heart, nodded his head and pushed a resistant Baekhyun out of the door, Chanyeol following behind. “Have fun!” Baekhyun said, undertone horribly alluding, and Jongin simply kicked the door shut behind him before facing Taemin again.

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“I’m sorry,” Jongin said, walking over to the couch with Taemin before plopping down, “they can be a bit much.”

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Taemin laughed, shuffling closer to Jongin, making their thighs press together and Taemin’s hair tickle the side of his face. “No, It’s no problem, They’re funny.”

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Jongin scoffed. “If you say so. Wanna order some food? I’m starving.”

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Taemin nodded quickly, urging Jongin to take his phone and make the call.

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The two-thirds-finished pizza was laying on the floor, box crumpled and soaked with grease, long forgotten. There was the distinct sound of the show they’d decided to settle with while zapping through the channels, the noise just quiet enough to serve as a pleasant background tone as Jongin’s mind was otherwise completely taken over with the feeling of Taemin’s warm hands on his skin, his soft lips sliding against Jongin’s, every gasp escaping either of their mouths shared.

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Jongin doesn’t know how they went from messily eating pizza and laughing at every half-assed jab of the other, to desperately running their hands through one another’s hair and passionately opening their mouths for each other, pulling and tugging at strands of hair and suddenly-too-hot shirts. Jongin thinks it was probably somewhere between Taemin ticking his sides and Jongin threatening to spill his soda over Taemin’s head.

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Though, Jongin supposes, it didn’t really matter how or when it started. All that mattered was _Taemin_ and _Taemin straddling his lap_ and their bare chests sliding together with a warmth that Jongin wouldn’t be able to compare to anything even if he tried.

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Jongin gasped when Taemin lowered his head, kissing over the expanse of his neck before nipping at the soft skin sharply, the thrill it sent through Jongin’s body nearly overwhelming. He let his hands trail down Taemin’s sides, reveling in the shivers he felt going through the other as Jongin’s hands slid over his hot skin until he rested them just above the waistband of his jeans.

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He felt Taemin bite against his skin harsher now, pulling another gasp from Jongin and making him tighten his grip on Taemin’s waist, rubbing circles into the skin with his thumbs when he heard Taemin’s breath hitch in his throat. “As much- ,” Jongin began, voice breathy in a way that would’ve been embarrassing had it been any other time, “ _fun_ as this is, I think Sehun would have my head for doing anything on the couch.”

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Taemin soothed the spot he’d been sucking and biting at with a last, soft lick of his tongue before lifting his head again, locking their gazes together, and Jongin thinks he’s never seen Taemin quite as beautiful before; all red, swollen lips, hazy eyes and flushed cheeks. Jongin wonders if he looks the same to Taemin right now.

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He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Taemin tugging softly at his hair before rasping, “Gotta show me your bedroom, then.”

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Jongin huffs out a breathless laugh, taking a moment to simply look at Taemin’s equally as smiling face before getting up carefully, aware of the still-open pizza box on the floor as he slowly heaves Taemin up with him. “You’re not as light as you look,” he says, all playfully and giggly, though his laughter quickly dissolving into more gasps once he feels Taemin mouth at the other side of his neck now, leaving more sucking kisses all over the skin. The marks were something Jongin was looking forward to seeing bloom against his skin.

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He nearly tripped over his own feet a couple of times, with the only light source being the still-playing TV and the distracting feeling that was Taemin’s hands sliding over his skin and his tongue licking along his pulse point. He felt the vibrations of Taemin’s soft chuckles against his skin once he managed to kick his door shut, finally able to clumsily set Taemin down on his bed.

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Jongin thought it was beautiful; Taemin lying against the headboard of Jongin’s bed, pale torso illuminated by the dim streetlamps outside and the soft haze the moon cast through the open window, blonde hair a mess and the light just enough to make out his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

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“You gonna just stand there all night?” Taemin asked, tone back to the _oh so familiar_ teasing lilt, though the edges of his voice were breathier, shakier, no longer harsh and demanding. It made Jongin shake his head lightly, smile overtaking his lips while he set his knees down on the mattress, lowering himself until his elbows were resting next to Taemin’s head and their chests were pushed against each other, legs in between Taemin’s.

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"Better?" Jongin breathed into the minuscule space between their lips, eyes locked on Taemin's. There was no answer, though the hands returning to the back of Jongin's head to pull him down into another kiss told him all he needed to know.

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The feeling of Taemin’s tongue sliding along his, the hot warmth of their mouths against each other, was intoxicating in a way that nothing else could be, and when Taemin ground his hips up to thrust his clothed erection against Jongin’s, he thinks he might pass out from all the sensations clouding his mind.

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Jongin gasped lowly against Taemin’s lips at the movement, grinding his own hips down in retaliation, moaning in the back of his throat when Taemin sucks on his tongue before biting his lower lip.

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It was undeniable how eager both of them were, the hardness inside their pants obvious in the best way possible while they sought friction with each other through the harsh material of the jeans they were wearing. It wasn’t enough, _wouldn’t_ be enough, so when Taemin rolled them over so that he was on top and shuffled on Jongin’s lap until he was straddling his hips before letting his soft fingers wander down Jongin’s torso until they reached the button of his pants, Jongin couldn’t find a single patient cell inside of him.

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He rested his hands on Taemin’s waist, softly rubbing them up and down, watching Taemin’s deft hands undo the button and zipper of his pants as he tried to control his breathing. It was hard, especially once he lifted his hips to allow Taemin to pull his pants down, leaving him in his boxers on top of which Taemin laid down his hand, palming the bulge slowly. Jongin let out a low moan, hands tightening against Taemin’s waist as the stimulation grew with every increase of pressure Taemin blessed him with.

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Jongin let out an embarrassing whine when Taemin pulled his hand away, earning a light chuckle from the latter before he let his fingers slide under the waistband of Jongin’s boxers, stroking over the sensitive skin teasingly until Jongin bucked his hips up the slightest bit, desperation for more friction growing by the second.

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“Eager?” Taemin asked, voice playful and eyes dark as he looked back up at Jongin.

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“As if you aren’t,” Jongin retorted, though his voice was raspier and breathier by now, pushing his thigh up to grind it against Taemin’s clothed hardness. The sharp gasp that was pulled from Taemin’s lips was satisfying, Jongin’s lips pulling up into a grin.

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“You wanna do it like this?” Taemin breathed, cocky expression on his face as he slid Jongin’s underwear down. Jongin hissed at the cool air hitting his sensitive skin, the sound quickly turning into a gasp once he felt Taemin’s hand wrap around his dick, stroking ones, twice, thrice before shuffling further down the bed. Jongin’s eyes seemed to be pulled to each and every one of Taemin’s movements like magnets, not averting his gaze once as Taemin lowered his head down.

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Jongin instinctively curled his fingers into the sheets below him when he felt Taemin’s full lips wrap around the tip of his dick, tongue digging into the sensitive slit as he hollowed his cheeks. Jongin moaned when Taemin’s eyes flicked up to find Jongin’s in a heady gaze, and it took everything in him to not break the contact and throw his head back in ecstasy once Taemin took him into the warmth of his mouth further, only stopping once his slick lips touched the fingers still curled around the base of Jongin’s dick.

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It was when Taemin started bobbing his head at a rhythmic pace that Jongin’s eyes squeezed shut, his head falling back against the pillows as he felt the growing pleasure thrum through him like electricity. Taemin increased his pace, moving his head up and back down faster only to stop at the head of Jongin’s length to suck harshly on it, tongue licking over the tip in slow circles before sliding it back into the heat of his mouth, running his tongue along the prominent vein on the bottom.

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Jongin couldn’t care about the definitely humiliating noises that left him, all high moans, breathy gasps, harsh whimpers, the only thing his mind could comprehend being the feeling of the climbing warmth pooling deep in his gut, the consuming sensation of having Taemin be the reason of every pull his hands gave against the dark sheets, every roll of his eyes to the back of his head.

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He felt Taemin's free hand move away from where it was resting on Jongin's hip, circling his wrist and uncurling his fist before bringing it to the back of his head. Jongin opened his eyes for a moment, the blurriness of his surroundings not allowing him to see much more besides Taemin still looking up at him, eyes encouraging, almost, filled with desire that made Jongin wonder if his gaze looked the same to Taemin.

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Jongin threaded his fingers through Taemin’s soft hair, gripping onto the strands softly at first but tugging harsher once Taemin began sucking harder, moving faster, tongue swiping over the head of his dick with every move upwards. The pull of his hair made Taemin groan, the vibration against his cock making Jongin let out another deep moan. He could distinctly feel Taemin grind against where Jongin’s right thigh was lodged between his legs, and the thought of Taemin getting off to _this_ made Jongin tug his hair harder, feeling the pleasure grow, ready to fall over the edge.

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“Taemin… God, _Fuck,_ I’m close,” he breathed, voice faltering, shaky at the edges, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, _Taemin,_ ” he chanted, grip on Taemin’s hair loosening, hand only resting against the back of his head now.

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And Taemin didn’t stop, kept going until Jongin’s moans peaked, until his thighs tensed. Jongin’s climax hit hard, eyes flying open before squeezing shut again, mouth opening in a silent moan, the feeling of Taemin’s throat working around him to swallow his release making him damn near shake.

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Taemin worked him through, slowing down his movements until Jongin slightly swatted at his shoulder, squirming under him, stimulation suddenly bordering on painful.

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Taemin pulled off, and Jongin pulled him on top of himself instantly, dragging him into a deep kiss that would be incredibly filthy with anyone who wasn’t Taemin. Jongin let his hands travel over his torso, thumbs stopping to flick over Taemin’s nipples before sliding down further, making quick work of the bulging jeans and underwear.

__

He curled his hand around Taemin, his cock slick with precum and the head a deep red in arousal. Taemin gasped into Jongin’s mouth once Jongin began to move his hand at a fast pace, stopping at the tip to squeeze and run his palm over the sensitive skin. Jongin felt Taemin’s hips buck into his fist and his hands gripping the side of his shoulder and tugging the strands of his hair, sending a soft tingle down Jongin’s spine as Taemin’s gasps turned into aborted moans, the movements of his hips more erratic and uncoordinated now.

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Jongin figured Taemin was close, with the way he only seemed to be able to gasp and moan and whine into Jongin’s mouth, teeth sometimes digging into Jongin’s bottom lip with an especially harsh tug of his hand. “Come on, Baby,” Jongin whispered into the space between their mouths, Taemin whining at the raspy tone of his voice, “Come for me, Taemin.”

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And Taemin did; hips stilling and breath catching in his throat, grip on Jongin’s shoulder tightening to the point of maybe leaving bruises to match the ones blooming on Jongin’s neck. Jongin kept stroking him through his high, feeling his release hit his hand and stomach, slowing his hand once Taemin breathed in shakily, body sagging against Jongin’s, heartbeat erratic in his chest.

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Taemin dragged Jongin’s hand away, blindly reaching over to Jongin’s bedside table to grab some tissues. He took Jongin’s hand, cleaning up the mess before lazily rolling off of Jongin, wiping both their stomachs of the mess before clumsily throwing the dirty tissue into the main direction of the trash. He missed by a few feet, Jongin snorting at the defeated sigh he let out.

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“Shut up,” Taemin mumbled halfheartedly, though already throwing his arm over Jongin’s chest and tangling their legs together. “Sleep.”

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Jongin hummed, smile taking over his expression as he pressed another kiss to Taemin’s mouth, lingering and promising. Taemin reciprocated slowly, softly, as if the bare movement of his lips was too much effort but he still couldn’t resist dragging them along Jongin’s, pressing their mouths together until the need for air overtook.

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Taemin moved away slightly, laying his head down on Jongin’s shoulder, still looking up at him, and Jongin thought that nothing could ever be quite as breathtaking as Taemin’s gaze being soft and spent, expression relaxed completely, though his lips still pulled into that effortless smile that he probably wasn’t even aware of.

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The streetlamp outside flickered once, matching the slow rhythm of Taemin’s heart against his chest and casting his face in complete darkness for just a second before illuminating it in a soft orange hue again, and Jongin thinks he will never be able to look away.

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**Author's Note:**

> i'm back with, y'all guessed it, more taekai, because apparently that's all i write.  
> anyway, that's my longest work yet and i honestly have no idea how this has managed to get this long, but i just had so much fun writing this  
> i really hope you liked this and enjoyed reading it, comments of your thoughts and kudos are obviously greatly appreciated!!  
> also, this story is what came out of the prompt "yo write some taekai enemies to lovers" given to me by the only real person in my life, thanks dubbie hyuck loves you
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/nsftaemin)!


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